Fate
by blueowls
Summary: Brittany x Santana. //The red string tied around Santana's wrist has always been there.//


**Author Note: **None.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

**Fate**

The red string tied around Santana's wrist has always been there. She can't remember a time when she didn't look down at her right hand and see it, a thin red string ending in a little knotted bow that Santana's never had an urge to try to untie. She's never seen the end of it because she's never found out where it leads. The farthest she ever got before she gave up was when she was six and walked all the way down to the supermarket on the outskirts of Lima by herself, past the high school where it just seemed to keep on going, disappearing eventually somewhere. Santana's always wondered how far away it goes, and what—if anything—it's attached to.

No one sees it, and for that reason, Santana's never told anyone about it. People walk right through it, but the string gets caught between doors and habitually catches on the coat rack in the hallway. It doesn't seem to have a fixed length, either, because Santana distinctly remembers that when she was little, she thought it must be like those retractable dog leashes her aunt had, and she always imagined herself being jerked off her feet if she ever abruptly reached the end of the string or someone, like Quinn, pulled on it.

The string is always there, tied around her wrist and leading off somewhere, and with every step in the direction away from where it seems to be leading, Santana wonders exactly what it is she's walking away from. It's only several years later, the summer between the last year of middle school and the first year of high school, that Santana feels the string actually _do _anything.

* * *

During a pretty heavy make-out session with Puck, Santana feels a soft but insistent tugging on the string. She tilts her head to the side, brow furrowing, but sees nothing other than Puck's room and, of course, the string leading out the door. There's no one here other than her and Puck, and Santana's pretty sure she's the only one who can touch the string, too, so she has no idea where the tugging is coming from.

"This is _super_ fun when you're daydreaming," Puck says sarcastically, settling on his elbows and resting his weight on Santana, and she narrows her eyes as she looks down her nose at him, pushing at his shoulders.

"Get off," Santana says acidly, trying to sit up, and Puck heaves a sigh before rolling to the side and settling on his back.

"Are you actually leaving?" he asks incredulously as Santana runs a hand through her hair before reaching over the side of the bed for her shoes. "Seriously? Have you _not _heard of blue balls?"

"Whatever," Santana snaps before standing up. The tugging's still there, softer now, so she turns toward the door, ignoring that Puck actually digs under his bed and comes up with a Playboy. "I have to go."

"You suck, Lopez!" Puck calls after her, and Santana makes sure to slam the back door hard on her way out.

She walks home alone because she has nothing better to do while Quinn's at her weekly Bible study thing, but the tugging doesn't stop until she's on the couch in her sweats, flipping through television channels. During a commercial, she gets the bright idea to wrap the string around her index finger and tug, curious. She tries twice and gets nothing before giving up.

"What the hell was that?" Santana asks quietly, scowling at the string. Unsurprisingly, she gets no answer back.

She makes it up to Puck later, but it's a halfhearted effort. Santana's starting to get tired of him and his one-track mind, and the tugging starts up again whenever they fool around. Eventually, she lets Puck's calls go straight to voicemail when he shows up on her phone, and by the start of freshman year, Santana finds out what the string ties her to.

* * *

Santana leans back again her locker, watching the people flow by in the hall, and adopts a haughty, bored look as she waits for Quinn. It takes Quinn at least five minutes to find her locker, and when Santana sees her coming down the hall, the crowd of people parting before her in her Cheerio uniform even though they're only freshman, she feels her knees go weak because walking alongside Quinn is a girl with the end of Santana's string tied around her wrist.

"Lopez," Quinn says flatly, and Santana tilts her chin up, crossing her arms. She feels the pull on her own wrist as the string stretches, but the other girl reaches up to brush her bangs out of her eyes at the same time, and Santana can't tell if she knows it's there or not.

"Fabray. Who's this?"

"I'm Brittany," the girls says, breaking out into a wide smile, and Santana can only imagine what it would be like if Brittany ever smiled at her like that. Quinn frowns, linking an arm through Brittany's as they head down the hall to their respective first periods, Quinn walking between them. Neither says a word about the string that's caught on the binder Quinn clasps in front of her.

"My house tonight?" Quinn asks, looking at Santana pointedly. "You can't keep lying your way out of Christ Crusaders, you know."

"I can try," Santana says with a smirk, and it gets a laugh out of Brittany before Quinn tugs pointedly on her arm, silencing her.

"Six. Don't be late," Quinn says before she stops in the middle of the hallway. The string is pulled off her binder as Santana and Brittany keep walking, and Quinn opens a door to their left and slips into the room, leaving the two of them to find their own way to class.

It suits Santana just fine, and she and Brittany take seats side by side at the back of the first class they share together, the red string hanging between them.

* * *

Santana's unsure whether Brittany knows the string is there or not. No one else has ever seen it before and Brittany doesn't say anything about it, so Santana assume she doesn't know it's there.

It's not so bad. Santana feels like she clicks more with Brittany than Quinn, which is saying something considering she's been going to the same schools as Quinn since they were little kids and were best friends for most of that time. Brittany invites her over after Cheerio practice one day to study, and they get absolutely nothing done. After that, hanging out at each other's houses is as much of a part of their schedule as school or Cheerio practice.

One Friday afternoon, they get carried away practicing in the backyard because Brittany hasn't perfected a handspring yet, and Santana's invited to stay for dinner. As they settle around the table—Santana, Brittany, Brittany's parents, and her little sister—Santana notices for the first time that there's a red string between Brittany's parents, one end tied around her mother's wrist and the other end around her father's.

Santana blinks hard and even rubs her eyes discreetly, saying a lash fell in her eye, but it's still there.

They're at a varsity football game together, sitting in the stands watching the senior Cheerios perform, when Santana sees another string. They're huddled under a McKinley blanket together, arms linked and pressing against each other to ward off the cold, when Santana realizes two people in front of her have a red string tying them together. Santana can't tell if the two of them are a couple or not until the man leans toward the woman and whispers some in her ear, and the look on her face as she laughs is enough to tell Santana that they're together.

When the game's finally over, they get up, and Santana offers a sleepy Brittany a hand as they make their way with the rest of the crowd down the bleacher stairs. Brittany smiles tiredly and takes it, both of their fingers clammy and stiff from the cold. They make it down to the track before Brittany lets go, but only to wipe her palm on her jeans before taking Santana's hand again, twining their fingers together, and it's then that Santana knows what the red string means.

* * *

"You see it, don't you?" Brittany says, flopping down on Santana's bed alongside her, but Santana knows it's not really a question. She nods, rolling over onto her side and tangling in the string, and Brittany does the same, moving closer until their knees bump and there's almost no space between their bodies.

"Wait. You see it, too?"

Brittany smiles, and Santana closes her eyes as the other girl moves closer. Their noses bump, and Brittany goes still, happy to leave it at that. Santana reaches out blindly, and her fingertips brush against Brittany's hip before their hands find each other.

"Your nose is cold," Santana hears her say quietly. "And yeah, I see it. I can't believe you didn't say anything."

"I didn't think it'd be attached to—"

"—a girl?"

"No," Santana says, opening her eyes. Brittany still has hers closed, and Santana feels herself start to smile. "You."

"Is that a problem?" Brittany asks, cracking open an eye. She sees Santana watching her and then opens them both, and Santana finally sees that blinding smile directed at her. She tilts her chin up, closing the small distance between them, and kisses Brittany.

"I don't think so," Santana admits once she pulls away. There's a tugging on the string again, but it's anything but distracting. The tugs match her breathing now, on every one of her breaths out and Brittany's in.

"Good," Brittany agrees softly before kissing her again. "I don't think so, either."


End file.
